Hold Me Down
by SleepySiren
Summary: Frank Castle never missed his target. The deaths of his "victims" were always left to rot on the floor like the sewage that they were, but when he has to help a young woman dispose of the rotting corpse in her apartment, things get messier than what he bargained for.
1. Close Encounters

**A/N: Trigger warning!**

" _Train's coming but I'm stuck on this road_

 _Moon's rising and my blood is growing cold_

 _Preacher man can't save a soul like mine_

 _Miracles are just too damn hard to find."_

 _\- Ain't Gonna Drown, Elle King_

The neon sign above the diner flashed in bright lights, the bell above the door dinging as she entered. It was late, nearing two in the morning with only three customers inside. A couple sat in a corner booth, snuggled up and recovering from their night partying with a lone man sitting at a booth facing forwards. A porcelain white cup sat cradled in his hands as he brought the warm substance to his lips, enjoying the quiet of the diner. The sounds of pots and pans clanged in the back with the smell of bacon grease filling the air. The waitress sat behind the counter, calculating the day's profits. She looked up at the sound of the bell and nodded in greeting to the latest customer, silently telling her to take a seat.

The young woman gave a half smile in return and walked through the aisle, settling down across from the man with the baseball cap. He looked at her from above the edge of his cup, lifting his brow in question. She coughed, ignoring his stare and laid her purse down beside her on the booth.

The waitress walked over with a notepad in hand. Her pink apron wrapped around her waist was stained with ketchup and coffee. The name on the tag pinned to her shirt read "Elizabeth" and her curly hair trickled out of her bun. Her blue eyes were plagued with exhaustion and she offered a tired smile, probably working the graveyard shift for the second night in a row.

"What can I get you tonight, sweetheart?"

The young woman looked down at the menu before her, eyes scanning down the breakfast options.

"How's your French Toast?"

"Best one in the city."

The brunette smiled, already knowing that it's the response every diner within the city says about its food. A television played in the corner with the newscaster reporting on a pursuing car chase between the police and a driver in a black vehicle.

"I'll just have a cup of Earl Grey to start off with, please. Thank you." She said, handing over the menu back to the older woman. The woman nodded and left to the kitchen to put some water to boil.

Riley Cohen sat back against the cushion of the booth and crossed her arms, biting her lip. She could feel the intense stare of Frank Castle upon her, but she wasn't ready to fully look at him just yet. She taped her nails against the table, eyes wondering around the restaurant to find something to distract herself with. Her options were limited and she knew that she was taking the coward way out. She decided to focus her attention on the salt and pepper shakers on the edge of table until the waitress returned. The waitress obviously didn't pick up on the tension surrounding the table since she quickly came back, placing a cup full of boiling water in front of her. A bag of Earl Grey tea rested beside it on a small plate with a spoon and variety of sugar packets.

"Would you like a refill, sir?" she asked, holding a fresh pot of coffee in her other hand. He nodded at her, holding it in the air for her to refill before she went to check on the couple in the corner.

Riley took her time in opening the tea bag and placing it inside the cup, watching the water swirl into a murky brown. The same color matched the eyes of the one and only Frank Castle, whom was sitting across from her, trying to enjoy his own cup of coffee before she came and intruded on his privacy.

He was waiting for her to make the first move and placed his cup to the side, crossing his fingers on the table like an interrogator ready to interview its next suspect. A few bruises marked his face, shadowed over by the baseball cap that he wore.

"You're a hard man to find, Frank." She laughed, hoping he'd be receptive to a positive approach.

"That's the goal," he said, his gruff voice sending goose bumps down her arms.

Two weeks ago she never would have believed that she would be sharing a booth with Hell's Kitchen's latest vigilante, but she also had a tighter grip on her own sanity back then. She knew what he was capable of though, which is the reason why she was here, in need of his services. A small voice in the back of her head warned her to be cautious around him, but she quickly hushed it. He didn't have any reason to hurt her—it wasn't his style.

Still, it was probably best not to annoy him.

"Why are you here?"

"Can't a woman enjoy some company while drinking a late night tea?"

The look on his face told her otherwise. Shit (so much for not bothering him).

Riley lifted her cup and blew on the liquid, taking a light sip. The boiling tea burned her tongue and she quickly put it back down to cool. She should have planned this better or at least practiced her speech. Frank was growing inpatient.

"Can we cut the crap here, lady, and get to the point?"

She winced, already knowing that this wasn't going to a great start.

"I…I need you to get someone. To do—you know, what you do."

"I'm not a hit man."

Without thinking about it, a laugh bubbled up out of her throat. She lifted her tea again, giving her hands something to hold on to. "You sure about that? I don't mean to be rude, but your current record begs to differ."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going to just put a hit on someone because some broad with a pretty smile and a handful of cash brings up my 'history'."

Riley exhaled a deep breath out of her nose, understanding his point of view. She already knew coming into this that he may need some sort of persuasion; she just hoped that it wouldn't take much.

"Ok. First of all, I don't have that much saved in the bank so money isn't my greatest commodity. We'd have to find a way to work something else out. My point is, I know you're a man of morals—in your own sort of way. Please, I-I wouldn't be here if I didn't have anywhere else to go. You're my last hope."

Frank remained quiet, sitting back in his seat and glancing out the window of the diner. A few moments passed and he moved his hand, motioning for her to "go on". Riley took this as her opportunity so she quickly looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation before leaning forward and lowering her voice.

"His name is Sean O'Connell. We used to be… _involved,_ but things changed. He started getting possessive, cutting me off from my friends, and refused to let me leave his sight. If he wasn't with me then he started sending one of his men to follow me, making sure I wasn't doing anything that they didn't like." Riley let out a bitter chuckle and tried taking another sip of her drink. "Turns out there are a lot of things that they weren't too happy about."

"O'Connell…he's one of the Irish. I took 'em out already." Frank commented, referencing back to the massacre two months ago.

The brunette nodded, verifying his story. Reports had been plastered all over the news but she also knew that it was only a matter of time before shit really hit the fan. She felt immense relief when she discovered Sean's family had been taken out, even if that made her question her own character. The Irish were loyal—incredibly so—and she received multiple bouquets of flowers per his request onto her doorstep one too many times. It unnerved her that they kept track of her for him, knowing where she lived even when switching apartments to a better part of the city.

"It was a gathering of them, but it wasn't the whole family. Sean and a few others have been in the big pin; you might have gotten more acquainted with them if you hadn't broken out so fast." She whispered the last part, sitting up and smiling at the waitress as she walked passed to deliver a plate of food to the couple in the corner.

"They-they've been in there for the last two years so I'm not surprised that they weren't on your radar. I guess I just expected everything to go away, to go back to normal when you got rid of the rest. Wishful thinking though," she scoffed, glaring down at the table. "They killed my brother. That's what landed them in there in the first place. I was tired of all his shit, especially when I found out who his family really was. I swear I didn't know until it was too late. Anyways, I finally called my brother one night at work and told him what was going on, asking him if he could come pick me up and take me back to our old parents' house. Jaxon, he…he showed up the next day. I knew Sean was having a family meeting that night so we had a small window. I had already packed my things in a bag and loaded everything into his truck, just about to take off when they showed up. One of them must have been watching the apartment because they…they shot him."

The television continued, the newscaster announcing that they had caught the black vehicle when it crashed into a fire hydrogen. Firefighters worked to shut the valve off and prevent more water from spilling into the streets as police arrested the man, dragging him out of the car when he refused to get out on his own. Riley glanced up at it, trying to push down the emotions plaguing down on her.

"The police told me that they would pay for their crimes when they took them all into custody. According to their testimonies, Sean wasn't the one to actually shoot him so he's been let out on parole for good behavior."

"You think he's coming back for you?" Frank asked, his face void of expression.

Riley ran a hand through her hair and slumped back in her seat. "I have a restraining order but we both know that those are shit. I've seen him in the crowd, watching me from afar. It's only a matter of time before he makes his move. I tried telling the cops but there's too many things happening in Hell's Kitchen than for them to take care of a 'paranoid girl and her ex-boyfriend.''

"Why not go to Red? Isn't this more up his alley?"

"Sure, then what? He gets his ass kicked and handed over to the police before being let out again? Daredevil believes in the law; that the justice system actually gives a damn about its civilians. I've tried it and it's failed. The law can't protect me anymore."

Frank sat in silence, studying the woman before him. Her eyes were swollen from lack of sleep and her foot continued taping on the floor, getting ready to sprint out if needed. He brought the cup to his lips, drinking the last drops of coffee left at the bottom. It soothed his dry throat and he beckoned to the waitress for his check.

"Sorry. I don't settle domestic disputes. Not my area."

"Domestic di—what the hell are you talking about? I just _told_ you that he—"

"Have a good night, lady." He said, dropping cash down on the table for the waitress to pick up.

Riley watched in shock as he turned around and walked out of the diner, disappearing into the night. Her tea sat forgotten as she placed her head in her hands, hair fanning out across the table. Her heart beat fast against her chest and her breathing quickened, nearing hyperventilation. What was she supposed to do now? Going to the Punisher had been a desperate move—she knew that—but she didn't expect him to walk out on her. Maybe she had, but she really didn't know what to expect at all. His response, however, threw her for a whirlwind. The man splashed across news screens and online papers was depicted as one that vowed revenge on those that hurt his family and all others that committed foul crimes and got away with it; where was that man?

Rubbing her face, Riley eventually stood up and placed her own money on the table to pay for her tea. The waitress leaned against the counter with her head in the palm of her hand, drowsy eyes battling to shut. Riley hoped the woman would be relieved of her shift soon so she could go home and get some rest. Sleep was something that had evaded her lately, fearful that Sean would come in her apartment at the dead of night. She hated living in fear.

The drive back to her apartment in the center of Hell's Kitchen didn't take long, but each red light felt like a life sentence. Ordinary citizens of the city existed during the day, already tucked comfortably inside heir homes at this time of evening. The moon weighed heavily above the sky without a cloud in sight, shadowing over the crimes committed in the dark. There was no city curfew but Riley sometimes felt like there should be. Vigilantes like Daredevil and The Punisher existed to wipe out these criminals, to put them in the pin or the ground—for good. Some criminals were created in the dark, forced to resort into thieving to survive. She wasn't scared of them (those that fought to survive); she was worried of those that enjoyed the fear. The ones that thrived off the power of the night. She always used to think that she was one of them, allowing the moon to provide her solstice and peace. Back home she would take many drives throughout the back roads of her town without a care in the world, but not here. If you're driving through Hell's Kitchen then you're on your way to your destination or you're looking for trouble. There is no in between.

Riley turned up the volume to one of the mixed CDs shoved inside the player to keep her calm, but her mind continued to race. She was angry with Frank Castle for ignoring her like it was nothing, frustrated at herself for even thinking that he would care to listen, and becoming numb at the idea of truly being alone. It was something that she thought about a lot lately. She didn't mind spending time with herself, shutting herself up inside her house or taking walks through the day on her breaks off work. Her father always told her that she needed to enjoy her own company, independent of needing someone to hold her hand. She understood that, but he didn't know that he would be leaving her; that her whole family would be ripped away from her.

The garage dedicated to her apartment complex was packed with residents, each apartment only allowed to have one vehicle each. Luckily everyone knew to leave her spot available for her. Something about taking the parking away from a nurse at Metro General Hospital fought against their moral conduct. One of the teenage residents living inside the apartment on the second floor was having a party again. They went to the local community college and organized an event inside their small apartment at least once a week. The extra cars in the lot that blocked in the spots were further evidence that tonight was one of those nights.

It was Thursday, a common evening for them to throw one on. Riley had surprisingly been invited to a couple of them, but it was mostly due to the fact that she was normally walking up to her apartment at 3am after a late shift at work. The college guys got a kick out of knowing that she was a nurse, always asking if she would take care of them if they were to accidentally hurt themselves in their drunken states.

Riley climbed up the stairs towards her apartment on the fifth floor. The elevator in the building had been broken for almost a year now and the landlord had no intention of fixing it. Luckily the fifth floor wasn't as high up as some of the others, but it still gave her a bit of a workout. As expected, music thumped through the hallway when she rounded up the second floor. The door was closed however, muffling the sounds of the party ragers inside. Some of the older neighbors filed complaints about the noise when the students had first moved in, but they were nice enough. Riley once saw one of the boys help carry a bag of groceries up for the elderly couple that lived on the first floor.

She held her key firmly in her hand, cautiously stepping into her apartment when she reached her floor. It looked empty but it still didn't stop her from inspecting for intruders. The switchblade her brother gave her when she was seventeen dangled from her keychain as she peered around corners but no one was there. Releasing a sigh of relief, she placed her keys onto the kitchen counter and flicked on some lights. The windows were closed but her blinds were pulled up, exposing the lights of distant billboards and office buildings in some of the city's surrounding skyscrapers. Her apartment complex nestled comfortably within the urban jungle, lost amongst the rest of the concrete.

Pulling her jacket off and tossing it on the chair, Riley unhooked her bra and started sliding the straps down her shoulders. It had been a long, draining night. The idea of taking a hot shower and putting on some comfy clothes before crawling into bed sounded like utter bliss. She undid her jeans and threw them on her bed, grabbing a pair of fresh undergarments and pjs on her way to the bathroom.

Steam from the shower head quickly filled the room and she stepped in, allowing herself to decompress. The pressure of the water massaged her scalp and she closed her eyes, letting it cleanse her of her sins before washing up. The smells of her apple harvest body wash made her smile, its familiar scent reminding her of home. The days of walking through the apple orchards with her family were long over but they were memories that she would cherish forever. It felt strange, thinking back to old days full of laughter and jokes at the dinner table. She was the last remaining member of her family, the only one left to continue their family name. When she was younger she played with the idea of eventually marrying someone and having children of her own, but the thought of falling into the roles that she planned for herself were long gone. She couldn't see herself walking down the aisle like some of her friends from school had or getting pregnant and taking care of another life. Riley could hardly handle her own safety and well being, nonetheless having a child to protect as well.

Twenty minutes later, the young woman dried off and pulled on the black t-shirt and pair of red cotton shorts she brought with her. The mirror above the sink was fogged with steam and she didn't bother wiping it off, instead taking her finger and drawing a happy face. The small illustration stared back at her, willing her to accept its subliminal messaging. She needed to move past this and get on with her life, accepting it into her own hands.

Riley pulled her wet hair over to her left shoulder and began towel drying it, exiting the bathroom. It was dark, the room covered in its blanket of shadows with only the light from the distant lights flickering in. She looked around, wondering if the power had gone off as she remembered leaving the lights on. Cautiously, she took a step forward, walking towards the lamp near her couch.

A cold feeling seeped through her bones instinct telling her that something was off. Before she could react properly, two large arms encircled her around the waist and roughly pulled her back to her assailant's chest.

"God, I've missed that smell." He said, inhaling a large scent of her freshly washed hair.

Riley froze, recognizing the sound of his voice anywhere.

Sean continued planting kisses on her neck as tears began to pool in her eyes. She released a cry of pain when he hungrily bit her earlobe, swiftly turning her around to face him. The towel in her hands fell and she placed her hands on his shoulders, trying to push him away.

The dim light coming from the window produced little, but she was able to make out the features of his face. What she used to view as handsome and charming was now tainted with smugness and disgust. Stubble coated his jaw for going a few days without shaving and his hair had recently been cut. Through the thin surface of his shirt, she could feel the bulges of strong muscle that hadn't been there before. He had bulked up during his time in the pin and his harsh grip tightened around her, forcing their chests together. She started to shake, knowing that any possible noise she made would probably be drowned out with the sounds coming from the party downstairs.

Sean tsk-ed and lifted a gentle hand under her chin, nudging it up so she could look him in the eye. He shook his head in pity, resting their foreheads together like lovers that were reuniting after a long journey.

"Don't cry, love, you know how much it pains me to see you like that. Shhh, I'm here. There's no need to be sad now."

Lifting her head, she glared at him with as much hate as she could muster in one expression. "You killed my brother."

Sean's jaw hardened and she felt his fists clench before taking a few breaths, and retreating back to his previous composure. "He was trying to take you away from me. I had to get ride of him; you understand that, don't you? My sweet, sweet Riley."

The Irishman wrapped a hand in her damp hair, pulling her forward so her head rested against his chest. She could hear the steady beat of his heart as he placed his head on top of her own, swaying side to side. Sean began to hum quietly to himself and she wanted nothing else but to rip his beating heart out of his chest. Her eyes scanned the room, wondering what she could grab to use to get rid of him for good. The switchblade attached to her keychain still rested on the kitchen counter and she wondered if she could get him to move that way. Sean must have realized where her thoughts were going because he pulled back, bending down slightly to be eye level.

His green eyes drank her in. Sean reached a hand out, tucking her hair behind her ear when it fell in front of her eyes. Riley turned her face to the side when he leaned in, his lips hitting her cheek. They were chapped, she could tell, and the dry skin scraped against her like a blade.

"Go to hell."

Sean threw his head back and barked out a laugh. "Darling, this is _Hell's Kitchen_! We're already here. Now, c'mon, be a good girl and give me a kiss. I haven't tasted you in what—almost two years?"

She refused to budge and he rolled his eyes, annoyed at her behavior. His hand still gripped the back of her head and he turned her towards him, crashing his lips against hers. It ignited some weird spark within him because he slightly loosened his grip, cradling her face in the palms of his hands. Riley went along with it, feeling the bastard slip his tongue into her mouth. She bit down on it. _Hard._

He quickly recoiled, raising a fist and knocking her in the jaw.

"How dare you, you bitch. I spent two years in the pin for you, two _fucking_ years and how do you repay me? You get a restraining order. Ha! I had a real laugh at that one. Riley, Riley, Riley. You're not very _smart_ are you? You're _mine_ and always will be."

"I'd rather die than let you touch me."

Sean's eyes widened with excitement and dug his fingers into her hips, adding to her latest collection of bruises.

"Wanna bet?" he whispered, licking the side of her face.

The sick delight evident in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. Sean slipped his hands underneath her shirt, peeling it off her skin and groping her chest. The other explored her stomach, dipping down toward her cotton shorts. Riley struggled against him, shaking her head like a wild woman whenever he moved in for a kiss. He was stronger though, stronger than he ever had been. Roughly he shoved her onto the floor, the impact immediately sending pain up her knees before face planting onto the floor. She hurriedly tried to crawl away toward the kitchen, yelling when he pulled back. Her nails dug in the floor in vain when she heard him undo his zipper and yank his pants to the ground.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?" he taunted, leaning over her back. "I often dreamed of it when in my cell. Those late nights were always the hardest when I laid in bed and thought of feeling you, _touching you_."

"Get _off_ me!" she cried, feeling him adjust himself against her. She was petrified, frantically withering on the floor. His heavy grip held her torso, anchoring her to the floor.

The front door of the apartment slammed open right when he about to take the plunge, a large mass of black ripping him away from her. Riley collapsed on the floor, pressing her face into the cool ground. Sean yelled a string of curses and let out multiple grunts of pain when the blunt of a gun collided with his face repeatedly, but she ignored them. The sound of something hitting flesh and the crunching of bone filled the air until the apartment was filled with a heavy silence.

Riley remained on the floor, holding her knees to her chest, and stared straight ahead until a pair of black boots stopped in front of her. They were worn and the soles were covered in blood and dirt. The laces had seen better days and needed to be replaced. She took note of everything, even the slight squeak they made when the owner crouched down.

"Hey."

His soft, yet hoarse voice broke her out of the trance that she was in. Sitting up, she stared at his bloodstained face. He was looking at her like a wounded animal—no doubt wondering if he should just shoot her dead to put her out of her misery—and it made something in her snap.

"Where were you?" she asked, not at all fazed by the fact that the blood on his face belonged to the man on the floor a few feet away. The _dead_ man.

"Where were you?" she repeated, threatening on the edge of hysteria as she punched him in the chest. It felt good, taking out her anger and frustration on him. He didn't say a word as she began a whole new wave of punches, using the skull painted on his chest as her main target. Frank accepted her assault in continuous silence until her arms tired and dropped to her side.

The hollow feeling was beginning to fade and she struggled to catch her breath. Putting an arm on Frank's shoulder for support, she pulled herself up to a standing position and wobbled over to wear Sean lied in a puddle of his own blood. His face was unrecognizable with his cheeks sunken into his skull, the edges of his lips barely visible. Glaring at him, Riley leaned over and spat on his face. The saliva mixed in with his blood and she kicked him for good measure.

She should have been repulsed by the mutilated face and dead corpse leaking blood onto her living room floor, but she felt that justice had finally been served. The bastard murdered her brother and almost raped her. He dared to strike her with his fists and she knew that he wouldn't be allowed to hurt anyone else ever again. He deserved this.

"You're an asshole." She said, turning towards Frank Castle as he stood off to the side of the room. He moved to sit in her favorite armchair, sinking into the cushions and laying his head back so he faced the ceiling.

"So I've been told," he said, shutting his eyes and rubbing his sleeve across his red streaked face.

"You walked out of the diner and said you weren't going to help me."

"I was in the area."

Riley scoffed and walked towards him with her hands on her hips. This was all so surreal. She took a glance around the room, zoning in on the window and turning back towards the Punisher that rested on her armchair. His eyes were closed and she briefly wondered if he would fall asleep like that. Her gaze continued to flick back and forth while the wheels began to turn in her head, linking everything together.

He had been watching her.

"Fuck."


	2. Bloody Hands

" _This night ain't for the faint of heart_

' _Cause the faint of heart gonna fall apart."_

– _Wicked Ones, Dorothy_

Riley Cohen had always been fascinated with outlaws. Growing up she spent many days curled up on the couch with her mother watching films like _Thelma and Louise._ The characters didn't fear being caught or thrown behind bars—in fact they would do anything just to have that one final ride of freedom. Back in high school when her tenth grade teacher assigned a writing prompt based on America's most influential figures, she wrote a piece on Jon Dillinger and how he later inspired a generation of criminals. When her classmates referenced famous couples like John F. Kennedy and Jackie O., Riley dove into the actions of Bonnie and Clyde.

The glorified bank robbing, shootouts, and car chases appealed to her younger self in ways that she couldn't comprehend. It wasn't the killings or the weapons that appealed to her, but the way they all lived on the edge. They took their lives into their own hands without anyone defining what they could or could not do.

When her parents passed away in a fatal car accident off the bridge near their home, Riley went through multiple court proceedings. Lawyers and law officials tried to take her away, but her brother fought for her. She had just turned sixteen and he was edging onto his twenty-first birthday. To prove that he was a responsible enough adult, he dropped out of his community college courses and worked full time at Mr. Rogers' mechanic shop in town. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rogers vouched for him and they never failed to invite the pair over for holidays and weekly dinners. Riley finished her high school education with state officials dropping by occasionally, making sure her home environment was suitable enough. She kept her promise to Jax that she would behave and live under his rules even though he didn't have many. The residents of the small town watched them too, their nosey eyes following them wherever they went.

The siblings had always been close, but together they were forced to grow up quicker than their peers. While their friends went partying out in the backwoods, the pair worked night shifts at their respective jobs or hung out on the couch binge watching their favorite programs. It was a steady rhythm, but when Mr. Rogers left the mechanic shop in Jax's name, Riley knew she wanted more. Jaxon was happy taking over for the older man when he and his wife decided to move out towards sunny California, but she didn't want to spend the rest of her life there.

Her thirst for adventure refused to be quenched and she soon found herself moving to the heart of Hell's Kitchen. She needed the noise and chaos of the city. Upstate New York was beautiful and alluring in its own right, but she was tired of seeing the same faces everyday. Here, she melted into the crowd without having others spare her glances full of pity. Here, she wasn't the orphan that lived on Birch St. with her older brother. Here, she was just Riley.

The single, twenty-seven year old woman that lived on the fifth floor of an apartment building that cost more than its worth.

The universe, however, had other plans.

During her search for identity in this new life, she found companionship in a lonely Irishman. She hadn't meant to fall for a member of the only Irish gang in New York City, but Sean had been charming and full of life when they first met. He made her laugh and forget about her problems, convincing her that life really was worth living. It had been great and within those first few months, the pair moved in together. She tried to ignore the initial signs—the late night calls and strangers that showed up at their door. He always told her it was just family business and she accepted that. It would take awhile for her to finally figure out what that meant, as well as the mess that would eventually come from it.

The mess that included his dead body on her floor and the Punisher hanging out in her living room.

"So…what now?"

After drinking three cups of water (and a shot of tequila), Riley was finally able to deal with the situation. The "situation", of course, being the fact that she hired the Punisher to take out her ex-boyfriend. Had she really hired him though? Sure she had told him about what was going on, but he initially denied the request and instead chose to follow her. Technically, Frank Castle had been in the neighborhood and just so happened to step in at the right time. Yes. Technically.

"In five minutes you'll call the police. Tell them he broke into your apartment and it was self defense."

"Self defense? His head is nearly based in! That's not self defense, that's fucking _homicide_."

"Hey, lady, I wouldn't have even come here if you hadn't sought me out. Now you're having second thoughts about the way I do things? Well, that's too damn bad. This shit's on you."

"I'm not saying he didn't deserve it!" she sighed, dropping into the couch opposite him. She had been pacing the floor, but it was just making her more anxious. Frank was sitting in her armchair, staring at her as she tried to get her thoughts in order. "I'm just saying…the police aren't going to believe it. We need to bury him. Make it look like he was never here."

"You've been watching way too many crime shows, lady."

Riley groaned, frustrated with his aloofness. Didn't he understand the seriousness of the situation? There's a _corpse_ in her bedroom. Running a hand down her face, she slumped back into the couch. Who the hell was she kidding? She knew exactly why Frank Castle didn't care. He took great pride in taking scumbags off the street and this wasn't an exception. The only real difference was that _she_ happened to be involved and she wasn't ready to have a bounty over her head.

You'd think that all those episodes of _Dateline_ would have prepared her for this. Unfortunately, that show only talked about how detectives _found_ bodies. She needed Sean to remain buried.

"Well, what do we do with him then? And stop calling me 'lady', my name's Riley. Feel free to use it."

Frank glared at her.

" _We_ are doing nothing. I did my part. As far as I'm considered, 'we' are done."

They were far from done.

Two hours later, Riley sat bent on her knees as she attempted to scrub away the bloodstains on her floor. They had placed a sheet over Sean's body so they wouldn't have to look at his disfigured face any longer, but some of the blood had splattered towards the rug and the walls. It was a little disconcerting, but more importantly, it gave her something to do.

"How'd you know he was here?" she asked, peering up from her spot on the floor to see Frank still resting in her chair. In the moments of silence that passed between them, she wondered if he dozed off while she scrubbed the nearby area. He didn't say anything and his figure was surprisingly relaxed. She guessed she had expected him to remain alert and ready to spring into action at any moment if necessary, but yet again, Frank Castle went against her expectations.

She wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Frank shrugged with his eyes still closed. "I saw him enter the building, but I wasn't sure if it was him until the lights went off in your apartment."

Riley paused in her scrubbing of a particularly stubborn stain and furrowed her eyebrows, twisting around to look at him.

"You watched me undress."

There was a pause.

"I was scouting the area."

Riley scoffed and sat up from the floor, frowning down at her bloodstained hands. Frank's eyes were open now and he was sitting up straight, fingers tapping on the armrest to an unknown beat.

"You really should shut your blinds though."

"I'll make a mental note for next time," she teased, taking a step back to admire her work. The stain wasn't completely gone and she was temporarily reminded of a scene from _Macbeth._ Shaking her head, she turned towards the kitchen and rinsed the blood away from the cloth before throwing it in the bin. There was no way she was going to use it again.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"I got a feeling that you'll ask anyways."

Riley smirked. "Why didn't you just shoot him? I mean, I'm glad that you didn't because it would have been loud and brought unwanted attention with the glass breaking and all, but I'm curious."

Frank stood up from the chair and stretched his neck, circling around the living room. He glanced over the paintings on her walls and stopped in front of her table, picking up the photo frame that rested there. It was an image of her and Jax when they were younger. Her hair was separated into two braids and Jax was playfully pulling one of them, their faces covered in mud. There was a glass door behind them and you could see the reflections of their parents laughing as their mother snapped the picture. Frank put the photo back down.

"It was dark and I couldn't get a clear shot. You were fumbling around too much."

He didn't have to clarify what he meant by that. Riley bit her lip, looking down. She imagined him standing on the rooftop of a nearby building and peering in. She wasn't sure how she felt about him watching her while she undressed, but she was glad that he was there. If he hadn't come bustling in through that door…

"Look, _Riley_ , is it? I've wasted too much time here. I need to get going."

"What, no! You can't just…leave. It's been too long for me to call the cops! They'd be suspicious on why I didn't tell them sooner, even if it was self-defense. That ship sailed long ago. Please. Just help me get rid of him and then you can leave and act like nothing ever happened."

"You're a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, I know."

The sun was beginning to rise, its orange rays peeking through the clouds above the horizon. Riley lit her second round of incense, trying to disguise the growing smell of blood in the air. It was starting to leave an iron taste in her mouth and battled to overpower the vanilla scent she wafted through the apartment. She had finally managed to convince Frank that they were in this for the long haul and insisted that he take a shower to rinse off the blood caked on his face. He had raided her kitchen, complaining that she was keeping him there, and ate a bowl of cereal. He munched on it while sitting in her armchair—his latest residence—and eventually slipped off his boots. He left them beside the chair, claiming his spot, and walked toward the bathroom. A fresh towel had already been laid out for him on the counter and she waited outside the door for him to give her his dirty clothes.

"What are you, my mother?" He grunted, handing them to her through the cracked door.

Riley decided it was best to keep her mouth shut as she accepted them, hearing the shower head turn on. The thought of Frank Castle standing naked only a few feet away though made her heart speed up at an unnerving pace. Quickly backing away from the door, she turned towards the kitchen and scrubbed the blood off his shirt over the sink like she did with the washcloth.

It was irrational, but she was secretly relieved in knowing that her bathroom didn't have a window. She wasn't trying to hold him hostage or anything, but it gave her a small piece of mind in knowing that he wouldn't climb out and disappear into the early morning sun. Although, the thought of Frank Castle climbing out her imaginary window in only his boxers brought a giggle to her lips. Once the blood disappeared down the sink, she put the clothes in the dryer on high speed so they would dry properly. She also took the liberty of tossing in a fresh dryer sheet for good measure. Frank didn't seem like the kind of guy that spent many days inside of a laundry matt. Or maybe he did. How would she know?

The shower shut off and in a few minutes Frank stepped out, wearing a towel around his waist and an expectant look on his face. Her eyes immediately went to his muscular chest, which was covered with scars and bruises. She didn't mean to ogle him, but he was definitely fit. A small, knowing smirk spread across his face making her cheeks redden in embarrassment. Swiftly averting her eyes, she landed on his feet that left wet footprints on the wooden floor. His toes wiggled against the floorboards and it made her realize that despite what the vigilante was capable of, Frank Castle was sill a man.

A man wearing only a towel around his waist.

"Clothes! Right. Hang on, one second." She stuttered, practically running towards the washroom and pulling his pants and shirt from the dryer. The jeans were still a bit damp, but he would have to manage.

Frank nodded in thanks when she handed him back the clothes, retreating towards the bathroom to pull them on.

She needed to get a hold of herself.

Going back to the kitchen, she pulled an apple out of the refrigerator drawer and tried eating it. Her head ached from lack of sleep and the food would help put some substance in her body. The strong taste of iron lingered, however, and tainted the flavor of the apple.

The blaring red numbers of the digital clock above her microwave reminded her that she had an hour before her shift started at Metro General. Taking another bite of the apple, she debated whether she should call in sick or take the day off. Workers were obviously allowed to call in sick, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to. The realization of having a dead body in her apartment was really starting to weigh down on her. How was she expected to go to work and help _save_ lives when she willingly collaborated on a crime in her own home? She didn't regret it; the bastard had it coming to him. What did that make her though? At work she didn't know anything about her patients except their medical history. She didn't know who they were on the outside; if they were criminals themselves and committed violent acts. It wasn't her job to understand how they received their cuts and bruises, other than to just patch them up and send them back on their way.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that some of the patients that staggered into the hospital during her late night shifts were shifty. The glares they gave her and the negative feelings that surrounded her, warned her that she didn't want to mess with them outside the hospital doors. There, though, she wasn't allowed to judge them. It was her job to pull out each bullet wound, stitch up their gashes, and carry on to the next bed over. It wasn't her choice to discriminate who she would or would not help. If she had known though, would that influence her decision to help them? What if some of the lives she helped save were rapists? What if she patched up men like Sean that appeared to be charming and nice, but really deserved to be dead? Had she unknowingly led to another person's downfall by saving the life of someone who hadn't deserved to be saved? Questions continued to plague her mind when Frank exited out of the bathroom, fully dressed in his clean clothes.

Looking at him though, she knew her answer. She needed to get out of her apartment. The poignant smell was overwhelming and making her lightheaded. She needed the outdoors, to breathe in fresh air and remind her that she wasn't living in a morgue. She needed some sense of normalcy, to make sure that she hadn't fallen off the deep end. She had wanted this, wanted the Punisher to take care of her problem. She just didn't expect the execution (no pun intended) of her plan to take place in her very apartment. Plans change though, and she needed to adapt in order to survive the next few hours at work.

"If we're gonna take care of this thing, then I need some supplies. Despite what you might think, I ain't never dumped a body before." Frank said, standing on the opposite side of her counter. He probably helped with some of his fallen comrades during his time in the military, but she knew that's not what he meant. "Too many people are out during the day so we'll have to wait. Less suspicious."

She agreed. It would be safer moving him under the cover of darkness. She just wasn't sure how safe it would be to leave him alone in her apartment all day long.

"Sounds good. I have to be heading out to work anyways, but do you think it'll be ok? Leaving him here?"

"We'll have to wait and see."

Riley bit her thumb, looking back at the body. He really wasn't giving her much confidence but there wasn't anything else for her to do. It's not like she could call someone up and have them house sit her dead ex-boyfriend. Frank was watching her, growing antsy for being inside her apartment for so long. She wondered where he went during the day, invisible amongst the citizens surrounding him. He said he was going to get supplies, but she wasn't ready to think about what that would be. She would know in a few hours, anyways.

"Ok," She nodded. "My shift doesn't end 'til the afternoon, so let's meet back here at five. It's been getting dark earlier and most people should be out since it's a Friday."

Riley grabbed her purse, following Frank out of the apartment and into the hallway. His baseball camp was pulled on, adding to his "disguise" as he waited for her to lock up the place. The sound of another door opening revealed her neighbor, Betty, whom lived down the hall. Riley cringed, already knowing that the woman would try to stop them for a conversation. It's not that she was unsociable, but right now really wasn't the time to play catch up.

The older woman was one of the complex's first residents, whom originally moved in with her husband when they first built the place. He had passed on a couple years back, she had learned, after being caught in a conversation with her when she moved in herself. Betty took the liberty of filling her in on some of the other residents of the complex, telling her stories of their private lives and affairs. She was a sweet old woman, almost reaching her seventy-fifth birthday, and Riley normally didn't mind spending time with her. She knew that she was just lonely and wanted the company of someone to talk to. She had three kids, but they had all moved on with their lives while she remained here in the city. Riley sometimes wondered why she didn't leave or move into an assisted living facility so she would have more people her own age to communicate with, but Betty took pride in her independence.

"As long as I can keep climbing up those stairs, I'm golden!" She always said whenever someone questioned her capability of living on her own. Riley admired that about her and kept an eye out just in case, but right now she needed to leave and Betty was blocking the stairwell.

It was too late for them to maneuver around her without being rude and she took a deep breath, accepting the fact that they couldn't avoid some sort of interaction. She stole a quick glance back at Frank, warning him to go along with whatever story she came up, and turned towards the older woman that was waving at them.

"Riley, dear! Good morning! Is everything alright, I heard quite a bit of fumbling last night?" Betty questioned, eyes full of concern until she caught sight of Frank. She could feel him move out from behind her, stepping to stand alongside her as to not provoke suspicion. "Oh I-I'm sorry, dear. I didn't know you had company."

Riley wasn't sure if she liked the way that Betty's eyes lit up, drinking in Frank with eager eyes. There was almost a bounce to her step.

"G'Morning, Betty. This is, uh, Jon. My friend."

Betty's eyes twinkled upon hearing the word _friend_ , obviously implying more than just companionship. Riley coughed, feeling her cheeks reddening. Much to her surprise, Frank stepped in.

"I'm sorry about the noise, ma'am. We got a little carried away if you know what I mean."

Riley's eyes widened. What the _hell_ was he doing? The older woman giggled.

"That's quite alright, dear. I was young once too." She laughed, winking at the brunette. Riley tried to smile back, but she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Maybe then she could wake up from this nightmare of her neighbor flirting with the Punisher.

"Well it's great seeing you, Betty, but—"

"What is it you do, Jon?"

"Construction! Jon's in construction." Riley interrupted, grabbing a hold of his arm and trying to steer him away from the older woman.

Betty frowned at her. "I'm sorry, dear, but I think your friend can speak for himself. You know my husband worked in construction for a while in his early days. He used to tell our son about getting a job for the city, but he was always more of the academic kind; didn't like getting his hands dirty."

Frank nodded. "'Can't say I blame him. Education is important though, you must be proud."

Betty's smile widened and she aggressively nodding her head in agreement. Riley worried that she unleashed a beast. Frank was now the center source for the older woman's entertainment, a new person for her to explore and converse with.

"He went off to law school and now works at a fancy firm inside one of those high risers. I don't get to see him that much other than holidays and the occasional lunch—he's so busy these days—but he's a good boy, my Samuel. I tried getting Riley here to go on a date with him before he proposed to that woman, Cindy. Now, now, before you look at me like that, I would just like to say that I am a _supportive_ mother, but they just don't match. Riley's a good girl as I'm sure you already know—real down to earth. Cindy, on the other hand…she coddles me. Wants to shove me in a retirement home down in Florida. I _hate_ Florida. I'm a grown woman and can take care of myself; I've been doing it just fine on my own."

"I'm sure you can." Frank nodded, pleasing the woman.

Riley looked back and forth between them, surprised at how normal it all seemed. To any onlooker, Frank was just a friend of hers—who may have stayed the night—that happened to be having a conversation with her neighbor. There was nothing out of the ordinary and Frank continued to play his part well, even managing to disperse any lasting suspicion that Betty may have had revolving around the sounds in her apartment.

"I'm sorry, Betty, but we really ought to be going. I have an early shift this morning and Jon probably has things that he needs to take care of too."

"Mmm. Yes, honey, carry on. Have a great day at work. Now, Jon, you wouldn't happen to know how to fix a leaky faucet would you? I'd call my son but I don't want to bother him with my silliness."

Riley mentally slapped herself on the head. Couldn't this woman take a _hint_? She knew it wasn't her fault for not knowing that Riley had a decomposing body in her apartment or the fact that she was asking the Punisher to fix her sink, but it was making her anxious. She hadn't known Frank for long or if he would be able to stay within character. One wrong word could cause everything to go spiraling.

Frank chuckled, readjusting his baseball cap and running a hand along his jaw. "I can't make any promises, ma'am, but a quick look wouldn't hurt."

God damn him.

Within seconds Betty all but yanked Frank into her apartment, chattering the whole way there. Frank turned his head over his shoulder, giving her a look that signaled everything was fine, before disappearing from sight as the door shut.

Riley stood in the hallway in silence, blinking at the closed door.

Had that really happened?

Shaking her head, she started taking the stairs two at a time. The clock was ticking and one look at her cellphone told her that she had less than thirty minutes to get to work now if she didn't want to be late. It hadn't been a major deal before, but ever since Claire quit then her boss had really been on her ass about being tardy. She had been off that night so she really didn't know the reasons behind her coworker's resignation other than the fact that she was tired of the hospital carrying more about its reputation than its patients. That was something that they could agree on, especially when she had to deny a person care when their insurance wouldn't cover their medical bills. Her boss had told her that there was nothing that she could do, but there was.

She grabbed some pills from the medical ward and ran outside, secretly giving it to the man's wife. The woman had thanked her profusely and the two carried on, returning home. Riley had been able to cover the missing pills with an excuse of another patient needing them and it was swept under the rug.

Now though, that _rug_ was causing her a problem. Sean's body was still lying on top of it and she couldn't get rid of the stain no matter what she did. When her and Frank met up again later that evening, she would have to find a way to get rid of the rug too. The bloodstains were obvious and she couldn't just dump it on the curb for the trash man to pick up. Speaking of Frank, Riley didn't understand why he willingly decided to help her neighbor. He could have made up an excuse, saying that he was in a hurry to get somewhere too. She knew that they had to keep up appearances, but would they be caught? The longer Betty looked at him, would she recognize his face from the one on the news? It wasn't as badly beaten up as it had been previously and there were only a few fading bruises that were hardly noticeable. Perhaps if he played his cards right then he would be able to escape without suspicion or maybe…maybe he was on to something. If he convinced Betty that they really were just two people having a fling together, then the older woman wouldn't be suspicious about seeing him hanging around her apartment again later that evening.

Riley arrived at work with only two minutes left to spare. She hurriedly rushed to the locker room to throw on her scrubs and tied her hair into a ponytail before stepping into the emergency room. Her boss nodded at her when she walked by, handing her a clipboard that listed the closest patient's medical history. It was a twelve year-old boy who'd fallen out of a tree and needed his arm x-rayed. Riley smiled at him and introduced herself, escorting him to the lab so she could have his arm checked out.

Patients continued to roll into the E.R. with some of them needing immediate medical attention, whereas others were less severe. Many of them were just parents who were paranoid about their kids having a concussion after doing some stupid shit at school that they weren't supposed to be doing. Riley lost count of all the stitches she had to perform and the band aids that she had to give out. Her head was pounding and on multiple occasions she had to grab onto a nearby bed so she wouldn't tip over from exhaustion. She hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours and it was beginning to really take a toll on her.

When lunch finally came around, she sat hunched over a table in the cafeteria with a face half full of pudding. There were still three more hours left until her shift ended and it already felt like a lifetime away. Her head kept dropping no matter how hard she tried to keep it up and her bloodshot eyes complimented nicely with the purple bags that rested beneath. Her jaw was sore too and she had trouble opening it when eating food. How were those college students able to stay out all night and then remain coherent the following day at school? She needed sleep. Desperately.

Her coworkers, Cynthia and Jasmine, sat around her at the table, enjoying their break from work. She met them when she first started working at the hospital and the three of them had a daily routine of sitting and having lunch together. Sometimes they would go out and take a walk through the park, but today they didn't mind being inside. Jasmine is a mother of two six year-old twins and is always gushing to the girls about their latest achievements. It always made Riley smile, seeing how proud she was of them. Cynthia was older, in her mid-forties, and acted as the mother figure within the group.

"Did you ladies see that car chase last night?"

"It was all over the news! I heard it had something to do with a drug ring. The dogs found some packets of cocaine underneath the seats."

"He crashed into a fire hydrogen for a couple snorts of coke? That doesn't sound right. Maybe he was already doped on it. Riley, did you see it?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. I only caught a few glimpses of it though."

"Are you alright, hun? You look like shit."

Always the charmer, Jasmine.

She nodded her head and covered her mouth as she yawned. "The college students downstairs had another party last night. I didn't get any sleep."

The lie came easily and the women bought into it, shaking their heads in disapproval. She wasn't being completely dishonest, but it was easier blaming her sleepless night on that rather than divulging the truth about what really happened.

"You should file a report to your landlord. That's not fair. Those kids can go somewhere else; not keep the whole place up with their shenanigans."

Cynthia leaned over and patted her head affectionately, leaving her alone so she could try to take a nap for the rest of their lunch break. Riley kept her eyes shut, but still paid half-attention to their conversation. She knew that if she knocked out then there wasn't a chance in hell of her waking back up again. It was tough, but she had to finish riding out the day.

Jasmine quickly forgot about the car chase and dove into telling Cynthia about the Krav Maga class she signed her daughters up for.

"Look, look! I took a video on my phone. Aren't they adorable? It's such a great way for them to learn self-defense. I never used to think about it but you keep hearing those stories about children being taken and I feel like this is good for them. Their instructor is amazing too and really teaches 'em valuable information. It really makes a mother feel better."

Riley lazily lifted her head and rested it on her forearms. Cynthia turned the phone toward her so she could watch the video too. Her eyes burned and she had to blink a few times to fully focus on the screen. It showed a classroom full of mats and punching bags with an instructor standing in the front, surrounding by about eleven kids. The camera spanned across the room before focusing on Jasmine's daughters. They were each partnered up with someone else from the class, simulating kidnapping scenarios and practicing how to get away from their captor. Riley leaned forward, watching as the little girl broke out of her partner's grip and knocked them to the floor. Cynthia and Jasmine continued talking, but Riley kept watching the video.

"Do they have adult classes?"


	3. Sack of Potatoes

" _Had me on both my knees,_

 _Praying to whatever is in heaven, please send me a felon_

 _And don't let the police know_

 _Anything, anything."_

 _-Female Robbery, The Neighbourhood_

"You want to carry him out in a rug?"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

Riley scrunched her nose at the prospect of rolling Sean up in the rug and carrying him down five flights of stairs. They would be out in the open and she could list multiple ways in which their plan could go wrong, but she couldn't think of anything else. It's not like she could just toss his body out the window— _that_ would be a disaster. Sadly, they had already discussed it, wondering if the hard impact of the cement could cause such damage to his face, but it had been ruled out. She didn't want anything linking back to her. She just wanted the damn Irishman to be out of her life; even in death he still caused her trouble.

Rest in peace her ass.

Frank knocked on her door at exactly five o'clock, leaving Riley about two hours to prepare herself. Once her shift at the hospital had ended, she bought a slice of pizza, and walked the rest of the way home to avoid the inevitable. Fortunately—or unfortunately since the place reeked—Sean's body was still resting beside her bed with the shades to the window pulled close. Immediately she went to open it, at least just a crack, so that some of the smell would air out. Apparently it wasn't a good idea leaving a decomposing body shut up in her apartment for over ten hours and she couldn't turn on the air conditioner in risk of the scent traveling down the air vents, so the window was the only option.

Riley changed out of her previous clothes and pulled on a pair of worn jeans with a fitted Pink Floyd t-shirt. She had stood in her closet temporarily, wondering what the protocol was to wear when disposing of a dead body, but dismissed the idea. This would have to do. Pulling her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, she left her leather jacket by the door so she could grab it on her way out. With the remaining time she had left, she walked aimlessly around her apartment and even tried flipping through the TV stations to distract herself. It was a blessing when Frank knocked on her door; she had expected him to be late but she supposed his years spent in the military engrained him with the importance of always arriving at the designated time. And she did mean "designated time"—it wasn't even 5:02 p.m.

Frank had changed out of his previous clothes too and she debated asking him where he purchased them and how he paid for it. As far as she knew, vigilantes weren't exactly on the city's pay raise.

"Look, the way I see it, we're killing two birds with one stone. You said you had to get rid of this shit anyways, right? Might as well just wrap him inside."

Frank's logic made sense and they needed to hurry. The longer they waited, the more time they were wasting, especially now that the cops would be patrolling the streets. Friday nights were always eventful in Hell's Kitchen and law enforcement knew to keep an extra eye out for trouble. This normally made Riley feel a little better when going out, but not tonight.

"Let's just do it and get this over with."

Twenty minutes later, Riley found herself lugging her dead ex-boyfriend down the hallway. They had wrapped him tightly inside of the rug and covered the outside with plastic in case they were to drop him so he wouldn't go rolling out on the floor. The plastic made her palms sweat as it slid against her skin and it made it harder to keep hold of him, but she understood why it was necessary.

They were barely starting down the first flight of stairs and she was already feeling out of breath. Luckily, the television inside of Betty's apartment was blasting some cooking show and she didn't ambush them like she did earlier. Frank held Sean's feet and went down the stairwell first while she remained a few steps above, holding onto the portion where his head rested inside. Her ragged breathing only added to her screaming muscles for hardly ever being in use. Why had she canceled that gym membership after refusing to go? Those arm machines would have done her wonders right about now.

Riley struggled to blow a stray hair out of her face while they continued taking each step one at a time.

"Nice and easy," Frank coached, finishing off the first stairwell and beginning the trek down the fourth floor so they could reach the next one. The halls, thankfully, were empty. Most of the people on this floor were already preparing dinner inside of their homes or still hadn't come back yet and were probably out grabbing a drink after work. Riley knew she could go for one when this was all over.

Similar to the previous set of stairs, Frank took a few steps backwards while she held onto the end. The stairwell, however, was littered with abandoned toys from the kids who lived on the floor. They had a bad habit of leaving their crap lying around and Riley looked down, sidestepping a ball. Frank lifted the rug higher above his head so he could skip a stair full of marbles and GI Joes, but Riley's arms shook at the extra strain. The plastic slipped through her fingers, forcing the body to go crashing against the metal stair. Frank hurriedly scrambled to catch it, but it was too much for him, and he let go as the body sailed the rest of the way down. They watched it plummet down the stairs, taking out a few GI Joes in its path, before finally stopping after hitting the nearby wall.

Frank sighed, tiredly running a hand down his face. Riley opened her mouth to apologize but decided against it. He didn't look like he'd fully appreciate hearing her voice right now. He just stared down at the limp rug at the bottom of the stairwell.

"If it's too heavy for you, tell me."

She nodded in understanding, respecting his strained patience. He could have yelled at her or abandoned her there on the stairwell, but he stayed. In fact for the last twenty four hours, Frank Castle could have walked out on her several times and yet continued to go along with her (nonexistent) plans. He may have bickered and complained a bit along the way, but she could deal with that. Despite what others might say, Frank Castle wasn't a monster. Sure he may have a bit of a Frankenstein-thing going on when he grunts and walks around in his combat boots, but if being a monster means helping a good-for-nothing nurse bury her ex-boyfriend then so be it.

She wanted to make him proud though, at least the slightest bit. He had stayed to help her and now it was her turn to fully commit. She would have to push past her non-athleticism and _really_ try.

Climbing down the rest of the stairs, Riley kept her head up in determination, positioning herself between the wall and the rug so she could lift it up at a better angle. Frank moved to the opposite side, giving her a look that asked if she was ready.

The rolled up rug was a lot softer than before, making it more bendable. Riley frowned, holding it tighter to get a better grasp on it before realizing why this side was mushier. She leaned over, biting her tongue to hold back the sudden urge to vomit. Her fingers plunged further into the plastic and she knew Sean's head just became a whole lot more deformed.

"Just pretend it's a sack of potatoes."

" _Fucking big sack of potatoes_ ," she grumbled, suppressing the chills of disgust that ran up her spine. She felt woozy and tried to snap out of it, focusing on what Frank said. If she continued to visualize the mess underneath the plastic then she would vomit all over the floor.

Frank chuckled and they rounded the hallway successfully toward the next set of stairs leading to the second floor. She needed a distraction; the potato image was fading.

"How'd it go with Betty this morning?" she asked, curious as to what went on once the door closed and hoping it would keep her mind occupied. There hadn't been any police raiding her apartment and Frank seemed casual about the whole thing, but she wanted to know. Had Betty ever grown suspicious? Did she invite him over for dinner? What did they talk about?

"The packing nuts in the steam screw had loosened over time, so after a quick tightening, she's running like a beauty."

Riley rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean the faucet."

"I know," he said, throwing her a roughish grin.

"You're disgusting."

"Yeah, well, less chatting and more carrying. I'm holding up all the weight on this side so it's the least you can do to."

"This isn't exactly _light_ , you know."

Frank abruptly stopped in front of the final stairwell that led to the first floor, almost making her loose her grip and drop the body again. She scowled, ready to throw a couple colorful phrases at him, when she caught sight of the person walking up the stairs.

It was Derek, one of the college guys that lived in Apartment 2B. His sluggish movements complimented the baggy gray sweatpants and black pullover sweatshirt that he was wearing. Frank shifted his weight to the other foot, annoyed at the twenty-something year old for taking his time and not glancing up from his mobile device.

"Sorry man, didn't see you there." Derek announced, looking up from his phone when he felt Frank's intense stare. Riley knew first hand how unnerving that could be and she watched as he gulped, slightly scurrying his movements before catching sight of her. His face lit up and he put his phone away into the oversized pocket of his sweatshirt, switching the grocery bag to his other arm. "Riley! Hey! How's it going?"

"I'm doing fine, thanks." She huffed, breathless from the strain on her muscles. Hair was spilling out of the bun on top of her head and stuck to her forehead unattractively. The water polo player immediately seemed to realize that she was carrying a heavy load and stepped in to help.

"Here, let me grab that for you."

"No, no! We've got it!"

The mention of the word "we" seemed to remind Derek of Frank because he looked back and forth between them with a frown. Riley noticed him even stand a little taller.

"We didn't see you at the party last night."

Riley struggled to hold onto her side of the rug, the material threatening to slip through her fingers. Her arms were weighing her down, but she couldn't risk dropping the rug again and having Sean's head splatter. They needed to leave.

"I was busy, sorry. It sounded like a ragger though. Maybe next time."

Derek glanced at Frank again, tightening his grip on the brown grocery bag in his arms. Frank licked his lips and met his stare head on. He was slightly shorter than Derek's full six-foot frame, but he was more imposing. The silent conversation continued for a few more moments until Derek broke away, glaring at the floor and pulling his keys out of his pants. Riley was relieved. Their alpha male status showdown (A.M.S.S. for short) was suffocating and her arms threatened to fall off if she held this rug any longer.

Suddenly Derek turned his nose up and sniffed the air, a sour expression contorting his face.

"Do you smell that?"

Riley forced a laugh. "Ms. Rodriguez must be testing her skills in the kitchen again. See ya around, Derek!"

The two quickly made their way down the stairs and carried the rug out of the building without any more interruptions. A black pickup truck sat parked in the loading zone, to which they lugged the body into the bed of it with Frank securing it down with a piece of rope.

"Whose car is this?" she asked, jumping off the bed so Frank could finish tying down the rug to prevent it from rolling all over.

"Ours for the next couple hours."

Riley looked at the bumper stickers that had women posed in their underwear and rolled her eyes, knowing that Frank probably stole the car from someone at a bar. If the driver drank enough then maybe they'd forget where they parked their car and possibly take a taxi home.

Climbing into the passenger seat, she waited for Frank to walk around to the driver's side.

"Your boyfriend's watching us."

Sure enough, when Riley twisted in her seat to look up at the apartment building, she spotted Derek watching them from his window. She raised her hand in a small wave before turning back around in her seat and facing forward.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Glad to hear it. We might have to be doing this again if he was."

"Shut up," she growled, putting on her seatbelt as he started the ignition and pulled out of the parking space. To get him back for his comment, she plugged her phone into the truck and scrolled through one of her playlists. It didn't take long for her to find the song she was searching for and soon the opening intro of "Jailbreak" by ACDC blasted through the speakers.

Frank shook his head, an amused smirk threatening to cross his lips.

"You've got a fucked up sense of humor."

"I think it's fitting."

/

Frank and Riley drove to the docks, pulling up to an area with abandoned storage units. There was a gate blocking the area so Frank cut the chain down with a pair of bolt cutters. Riley looked around in worry, making sure that there weren't any security guards on watch but Frank didn't look too concerned. He must have checked out the area ahead of time. She had thought that they were going to dump Sean's body in an abandoned grave or something like she saw on so many television shows, but Frank said it was too risky. Instead, he decided on the Hudson. The goal, obviously, was that Sean would never be seen again. For the far chance that he was though, it would hopefully look like someone had just mugged him and tossed his body into the river.

It sounded kind of sloppy to her, if she's being honest, but that was the point.

Grabbing a backpack out from behind his seat, Frank exited the car and hoped into the truck bed. Riley followed and they dragged the rug to the edge before sliding Sean off to land on the floor. It was getting easier lifting him around and whatnot, so they placed him on the gravel near the edge and rolled him out. His face really _had_ taken a toll during his plummet down the stairs and Frank curled his lips up in contempt. She should have been upset by the sight of it, but staring at it felt different than holding it in her hands. The earlier urge to vomit disappeared and she was somehow desensitized at the sight of it, no doubt due to her watching of all those slasher films with her brother on Halloween.

"Hold him by the shoulders while I grab his legs," He told her, lifting him off the rug and kicking the fabric to the side. Placing him on the gravel, Frank opened the black bag and took out a handful of weights. He expertly placed them within the pockets of Sean's clothes and then stepped back, motioning Riley forward.

"Do you want to do the honors?"

Riley looked down at Sean's body and shook her head.

"Together."

Frank nodded and the pair lifted him up one more time, swinging him into the river. The splash upon impact sent a wave of water sailing after them, but at least he made it a couple feet.

"Have a nice trip." Frank commented, watching as the murky water swallowed Sean into its depths.

Riley looked around the harbor with her arms hugging her body. Manhattan's buildings sparkled in the distance, their lights reflecting off the buoy in the water that shifted with the tide. Their bells dinged with the current of the waves and she stepped forward, the breeze ruffling her hair. It was over. She didn't know how deep the river was, but she imagined it to go on for miles. The further Sean's body drifted below, the more the weight began to rise off her chest. Deep beneath the black water hid her darkest secret and now—finally—it all came to an end.

She wouldn't have to fight the courts for justice anymore or constantly walk with her head overlooking her shoulder. Sean's family was either dead or locked in the pin and none of them would come looking for her. Sean couldn't touch her and now, for the first time in a long time, she felt free.

Frank moved behind her and laid out the bloodied rug that was spotted with dirt and grim from being tossed around. She took a step back, watching as he bent down with a box cutter and began tearing the material into thick strips. Riley crouched down next to him and he handed her an extra cutter, allowing her to begin on the other side. The strips curled backwards and looked like miniature scrolls, matted with blood and pebbles.

"We'll drive a few blocks before dumping these into the bins." Frank said, standing up and dropping a few of them into the back of the truck.

Riley stared at Frank, thankful that he was there with her. She couldn't have done this on her own. Pretty soon they climbed back into the truck and left the harbor behind. They drove a couple miles away from the river toward a particularly sketchy side of Brooklyn. It was known for being responsible of a good portion of the overall city's crime rate. They quietly pulled into an alley behind a run down apartment complex. A homeless man down the way looked at the truck curiously and eventually moved on, retreating back into the shadows of the alley. Frank clamored out, tossing the strips of rug inside, before sparking a match and dropping it inside. The strips of rug caught on fire, burning away any potential evidence.

Riley watched the flames grow bigger until Frank shut the lid, containing it.

/

The drive back towards the center of the city was a slow one with the traffic of Friday night beginning to pick up. An expanse of brake lights flashed back at them while they stopped at a red light. Riley pressed her forehead against the cool glass window, observing those on the sidewalk. A group of girls out for a night in the town sauntered past with two of them stumbling over a pothole, laughing as their friends caught them and continued to stagger in their high heels. It was nearing ten o'clock and like many of Hell's Kitchen's population, the night was just beginning for them.

The red light switched and Frank eased on the gas, leaving the girls behind them as they continued down the street. Riley watched them fade away in the rearview mirror. She didn't have girlfriends to call up or family members to spend time with on nights like this. Hell, don't even get her started on her love life—she just dropped her ex-boyfriend at the bottom of the river. Still, she didn't feel self-pity. It was lonely sometimes, just being by herself, but it was also strangely reassuring.

Frank had a family once. He owned the white picket fenced house with a wife and kids. They probably even had a dog that would come barreling into the kitchen table while they all laughed and enjoyed each other's company. That small slice of heaven had all been ripped away from him though, just as hers had been shattered too. Were they destined to meet here? They were both alone in this world. No one to depend on. No one to worry about them. They had committed a crime together and they had no one to hurt, but themselves. It relieved her, knowing that her parents wouldn't be questioned or be asked what their baby girl's relations were with the man in the river or the one sitting beside her driving through the traffic of Hell's Kitchen.

It made sense to her now, the implied recklessness of Frank's actions. Why he didn't care about going to prison…there was no one waiting for him. If he were to spend the rest of his life in the king pin then who would mourn? Who would wait? Who would visit? The only people that would send letters were probably admirers of his work or women displaying explicit photos of themselves along with proposals of marriage for the man avenging his family.

"This isn't the first time we met, you know."

The thought had resurfaced a lot for her today, especially now that she felt comfortable in his presence. Frank peered over at her, waiting for her to continue. She watched as the dark clouds above opened, dropping a few sprinkles of rain against the window and blurring her vision of the outside.

"I worked that night when you came to the hospital. I had just finished checking on some of the patients, getting ready to call it in for the night when you rounded the corner. It-it's funny. I heard the screams and nearly fell over in the stamped of people rushing for the exits, but somehow I knew there wasn't a point in it. You were there for a reason; your steps too determined. I watched you fire the shots into the air, but you were there for one person. One target." Riley turned away from the rain to look at him, watching as he navigated through the next street. "Did you get 'em? The person you were looking for."

Frank licked his lips and met her gaze with a brief turn of the head. "Yeah. I did."

"One of your shots hit a woman in the stomach."

"I didn't mean for that."

Riley nodded. "I know. I just…I feel like it's a world away. Shit, the last 24 hours have been something. I can't even remember what I ate yesterday."

"Are you hungry?"

The sudden question seemed like an invitation and Riley let it linger in the air, leaning her head back against the seat. Frank continued looking ahead, changing the radio station to one that played a Led Zeppelin song. Did he want to spend more time with her or was he making conversation? Frank wasn't a man of many words though. She knew that he said each word with precision and meaning.

"I'm alright. I think I just need to crawl into bed and sleep for the next two weeks."

Frank chuckled and nodded his head in agreement. The sounds of "When the Levee Breaks" filled the space and Riley closed her eyes, slowly feeling herself drift off. All too soon, Frank pulled up in front of her apartment and cut the engine. The radio shut off when he pulled the keys out, the sounds of rain surrounding them. She opened her eyes, staring up at the massive building while he scanned the streets for any suspicious characters.

"You did good today."

Riley paused in unclicking her seatbelt and smirked. "Is that a compliment?"

"Don't count on it."

The rain continued to fall in a steady rhythm, pelting down on the roof of the car. She looked out, judging how far the door to the apartment building was, and if she would be drenched by the time she got there. Her hand rested on the handle of the door, but she stopped herself from getting out.

"Thank you, Frank. For everything. I really owe you for this."

The man made a grunting noise in recognition, taping his thumb on the steering wheel. She was probably more trouble than it was worth, but she truly was grateful. If Frank hadn't helped her then she might have been the body being dropped in the river. She glanced back at him, taking in his features for memory. Frank continued taping to an unknown beat and didn't make any references to her paying him back. _This was it._ He had helped her and now it was time to move on.

Why did she feel so disappointed?

Opening the car door, Riley stepped out into the rain.

"Good night, ma'am."

Goodbye Frank.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Fear not, this is only the beginning. ;)_


End file.
